


Werifesteria

by SuchaPrettyPoison



Series: In Every Timeline [1]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Victorian, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Romance, Victorian
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-12
Updated: 2015-05-12
Packaged: 2018-03-30 06:25:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3926239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SuchaPrettyPoison/pseuds/SuchaPrettyPoison
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(v.) To wander longingly through the forest in search of mystery.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Werifesteria

Broken beams of moonlight danced through the trees, casting shadows that played on one’s emotion that something was always watching from the corner of your eye only disappear the moment you look. The sky rumbled overheard though the dark canopy hid the gathering clouds, mixing with the chilling sound of the wind whipping through the forest with ghostly howl and the faint lapping of water, it created a haunting melody that enticed one in as much as it warned away. 

Gloved knuckles clutched a lantern, which shook in the man's grasp, the flame flickering ever fainter the farther he pushed through the forest's maze. Trees snagged at his coat, trying to pull him away, while the wind pushed at his hat, trying to send him back. The forest wanted to be rid of the gentleman, fighting him from entering their depths, knowing that he was not supposed to be there. 

He was an outsider, with his well fitted suit that spoke to his propriety and status of the time. 

The temperature was dropping, his breaths coming out in quick puffs of white that seemed to hover as a wall that he pushed through. This night he should be in his home, in his well-loved chair by the fire with a strong drink in one hand and a novel in the other, but he found himself in the forest that laid just beyond his lands. 

Earlier that day his mother had stated that she had found him a bride. An old family friend with a daughter of marrying age; he was told she was elegant, demure, a lady that he would be honored to have on his arm. It was time for him to have a mistress for his home; his mother had told him several times and now had found one seeing as he shown had little desire to bring someone into his life. 

His revolved around his company. Calling for late nights and constant attention, he had no room to bring someone into his life, to bring someone who would never have his full attention. Yet, he was expected to call upon his would-be-bride, and enchant her and her father over tea. This was the last piece that needed to be fitted into place. The business was growing more successful with each passing day and a wife at home was the next step deemed by society.  
This was expected of him. 

Then the moon rose from its sleep and the storm began to brew over the horizon. It was as though he’d been entranced by a siren’s call, beckoning him to the forbidden place that many dared not enter. He did so. Willingly. Following the moon into the thick forest. Till he lost sight of all that had pulled him to this madness and pressed further to the heart.

A crackle of thunder roared overhead causing his heart to jump. Movement just outside his line of vision had him rotating his body, the dim light of his lantern held high. Eerie silence surrounded him, cutting the storm's cry that had engulfed him seconds before. 

"This place is not for one such as you" It was a whisper in his ear. Feminine and sweet. He swiveled in place, his coat fluttering, his lips pressed into a thin line, his eyes wide and searching owner of the voice. 

Laughter wrapped around him, taking the chill of the night away, "Leave before you cannot." 

The being was trying to press him to leave. There was slight pressure on the middle of his back, as though two hands had found their home resting there. He had been certain he was being watched the further he made it into the forest, now the being had made its presence known. Mocking him by being just out of his sight. Had this been what had bade him to the forest only to tell him to leave? The actions were contradictory.

"I shalt." His voice never wavered. 

He was a brave man, stubborn to a fault, and he knew not of this force in the woods but he knew that he needed to stay. 

Even if the tales were true, and there had been a multitude of tales. Stories that the youth would share in hush tones to get a rise from one another. The forest was said to be the home of the living night. A wild thing who fed off of chaos and toyed with whoever entered the core of the dark woods.

"You wish to stay?” The being said in a way that was both disbelieving and dismissive, raising its voice to just above a whisper. “This is for the wild of heart and you sir are too tamed." 

"Do not speak on things that you have no knowledge of." 

"I know of your heart. Pure and calm, but caged and restricted." The voice all but purred, the pressure of a body pressed flush against his back, he felt the warmth through his layers. He did not think the being knew exactly what it was doing; the actions felt innocent and not seductive. It was trying to get him to leave the woods, and he felt as it used him to push itself up to speak closer to his ear, "You are of the world of men. A world void of colors. Thought rules you." 

The world had rules and those rules kept the world in order. There needed to be decorum or humans would act as savages as animals in the wild. He was raised on etiquette. On the rules of polite society. He was a proper gentleman and the weight places on manners was very high due to they led to a refined society. 

This…this thing in the woods knew nothing of propriety in his distinguished world. Nothing of how every minute detail must be thought about before action could take place. 

"And what rules you?" He asked in a softening voice. 

The being laughed again before speaking as though through a smile, "The moon. For it and I are desperately in love, and I can only live in its full light.” There was a full pause, “Do you wish to see all that moon loves, my tamed heart man?”

He was not hers nor would he ever be. It was a sobering thought, for reasons that he knew not of. Still, he gave the slightest of inklings with his jaw before the dim light of his lantern died out with a rush of wind. Now it was just the two of them; cloaked in darkness.

“It is not too late for you to leave.”

But it was. He had yielded to the summons of the dark forest, following the moon as though he were a man dying of thirst and it had promised water. There was a feather light touch on his gloved hand and his breathing all but stopped.

The touch was tentative. Fleeting as though the being was testing the connection, and then the touch was gone. 

How could one as her be of any uncertainty? She had pressed herself to his back. Allowed herself to talk so close he’d felt her breath upon his skin. Spoken to him in such a mocking tone that he felt he must be mistaken about the touch being unsure. This being was all that was wild it did not know the meaning of such uncertainty.

“Open your eyes.” It spoke in a coaxing way and he did as it requested. His eyes must of fallen shut on their own accord, for he could not remember making the decision to do so. 

The wild being from the tale stood before him in the dark; the being that people feared to go into the forest. His hand went to his hat as he quickly removed it, as it was customary to do in the presence of a lady, his eyes never leaving her. He did not know what the proper etiquette was for a situation such as this. 

His cheeks burnt as he took into account her appearance.

She looked as though she were moonlight. 

Born as light from the dark of the night. Her skin was smooth and fair with faint constellations that the sky itself would dream up running across the bridge of her nose. Tangles of flaxen waves and curls fell about her, reminding him of the clouds in the sky, with moonflowers nestled in the wild cascade. And it was as though the moon himself had woven the silk for the gown she wore, a gown that flowed over her curves as though it was water being poured upon her. She revealed too much, too much of her natural form. No true lady would dare wear such a dress on the street.

Her eyes were what drew him to her; they caused him to take a step forward so that he could examine them closer. Their blue color was that of a clear spring day’s sky and they lit up the gloom of the forest.

His hand raised on its own accord before he stopped, bringing it back to his side, rubbing his thumb and finger together as if that would take away his urge to touch the moon’s love.

Everything about the women that stood before him spoke of confidence and intellect, they flowed from her as naturally as a river. Behind her eyes however, was a hint of shyness, as though she felt as exposed as he. It was humbling.

She was not the wild being the stories had talked of. One that drove people mad only to thrive on their darkness. 

The being before him was all that was bright in the dark. Rose colored lips pulled back in a smile as she flicked her gaze over him. His form was an intimidating stature, this he knew. Broad shoulders, towering height, and ever present passive expression.

Emotions were taught to be hidden from a young age, that a proper gentleman was to deny himself, and that silence was often more valuable than the gift of speech. He could work a room, placing a jovial look upon his face that allowed others to weaken their defensives. But most times, he was a statue with his stoic demeanor and hard lines.

“Am I not what you thought? Did you expect more of a lioness?” The teasing note to her voice caused him to smile before he could stop himself. Quickly he tried to regain his indifferent composure as her cheeks colored and she continued on, “Not that you would think I was a beast. Though you might with the stories that have spread. But I’m not. As you can tell. For you have eyes.” 

Her words fell quickly from her lips as a blush bloomed across her cheeks. She was enchanting, an enigma, and he could not see why people would have told such tales. 

“You say that you are wild of heart, that I am too ruled by the world of men. Warned me to take leave. Do you have great power that I should fear?”

“Of course.” She took a step closer to him, filling the space around him with her light. 

Every fiber of his being reacted to her nearing proximity. His fingers yearned to reach to her, to touch her to see that she was real and how her skin would feel under his palm. “I am all that you are not and all that you desire. Do you think you could go back to your world of men and be happy living in a cage after you’ve been freed? I am a danger to the life that you know.”

Scattered fragments of moonlight began to dim. The clouds were swirling high above the canopy of trees, just out of sight, the wind had picked up around them though it never touched where they stood. No sound to the night but their voices. 

His eyes skimmed over her again, taking in the little that she wore for the chill of the night, and he found he was moving to remove his coat without a second thought. Draping the lux item over her small frame. A primal part of his psyche enjoyed the vision of her wrapped in an item that was his, enjoyed how something that carried his scent and his warmth to now be part of her own. His large hands holding lightly on to the lapels and he was much too close for proper decorum.

“A life of mystery and danger is what you desire?” His voice was low, a hum of a whisper. The warmth he spoke with caused the fire to burn brighter in her wide eyes. 

“Heavens no. I loathe mysteries, they crawl under my skin and live in my mind till I can solve them. And danger. Why would one desire a life of danger? One where you look over your shoulder with every step, it is not a life for me. Nevertheless a life full of mapped out plans is just as bad. I wish for a life full of laughter and fights and adventures, even if they are as small as wading through a pond at midnight. I desire a life that I will look back on only to smile and say that ‘I have lived.’ For life is precious and I will live it in thriving color with no regrets.”

“You are remarkable.” The words spilled from his lips. Once again in front of this woman he had let his actions come before thought, it was not something that he was accustomed to. 

She made him feel. Broke through the mask he had be taught to wear. When she spoke, her mind worked to keep pace with her tongue and he desired for nothing more than to spend his days listening to her speak.

“I thank you for remarking on it.” Those bright lips were pulled back and her smile sparkled. 

This woman was life itself. The embodiment of light. His world was planned and orderly; everything was black or white. Having met one such as she, how was he going to go back to the dull routine that had been all he knew. A life of plastered smiles, duties and following the wishes of society. He’d never stopped to think of the way he lived, for it was all that he had known and it was all that was expected of him. 

At the heart of the forest during an oncoming storm talking to a woman that the moon loved, he found himself wanting more. And wanting more from life was a dangerous thing.

But he could not offer this woman a life befitting someone such as she. She deserved more than the cold still life, for it would slowly distinguish her light.

The thought took him by surprise. How could he possibly think such a thing after their brief encounter? Nevertheless, she stood before him bathed in disjointed moonlight as the wind caused the woods around them to dance with fervor, and he wanted her more than he had ever wanted anything in his thirty years of life. His soul needed her. 

A delicate hand came to rest on his heart. Beating rapidly with such wild intensity, he was certain his heart was bound to beat out of his chest. She was calling him silently to look at her, and who was he to deny her what she wanted. There was a connection between them as though they were both well read stories that each had grown up pouring over. 

Everything about her was open and loving. The world around him was brighter than he had ever seen; the darkness from the night did not dissuade from the colors that swirled around them. If it meant nights such as this he would be willing to be ruled by the moon as she. 

“Mister Oliver Queen,” she had spoken his name without her ever had given it to her, spoke it in a way that was in no way proper, and his heart lightened, “now don’t be startled, but I believe that you may be more wild of heart than I had originally assessed. However, it makes perfect sense seeing as you braved this forest as the gale approached. Could it be that you are one ruled by man but desire the moon?” 

“You know who I am?”

“Did I not tell you that I knew your heart?”

“You did not think it so wild before.”

“No. No I did not. My tamed heart man, you listened to the call of a wild heart, which is dangerous you see. But in the most un-dangerous way danger could possibly be. It all comes down to the matter of what do you want.” Their surrounding whipped about in a frenzy, the storm was upon them and making its presence known. Pulling the woman close, he sought to protect her from the forces though they touched them not. Having her pressed to him, with her head tilted to have a clear view of his eyes, he felt his heart swell as it had never down before. His body hummed for her. He craved nothing more than to hear thoughts on any and every subject that he could fathom and then some. He wished for simple joys and easy smiles with the woman that was wrapped in his embrace.

“I would like your name.” The smile she gave at his words was that of perfection. The life that he had known till this night was that where he was waiting for her to show him the light.

“Once I give you my name, you will be as I am, do you understand the weight my name carries? As much as I enjoy being in your arms, you must know that my name is an arrow. We will not be able to go back, only forward.”

“Please, my wild one, what is your name?”

There had been a reason he had followed the moon’s sirens call, why he had allowed himself to be pulled deep to the heart of the forest. The wild woman in his arms who looked at him with such power and light that he wanted nothing more in life than for her to be happy. 

Haunting howls of the storm began to grow. The forest was alive and charged with energy that coursed through his body. His hand found its home resting on the cheek of the woman who felt like heaven in his arms. Gone were the gloves that he had worn, his skin brushing against hers intimately. She was all that was bright and free, and she called to him in every way a person could

They were a breath away and she felt like the universe itself was in his arms. 

He wanted a life of adventures. A life with a woman who breathed life into him and stayed by his side during the tempests as a partner. He wanted to give in to the forest, to the storm, and to the wild heart.

He wanted to live.

“Felicity Smoak.”

And his world came alive.

**Author's Note:**

> This came from this idea I had of a Victorian Gentleman falling in love with a wild thing in a forest on a dark and stormy night.  
> I know it's a tad rough. But it popped into my brain, refused to leave and demanded to be written...so here we are.  
> Hopefully you enjoyed it.


End file.
